The thing about ministry out here on the frontier is that we are so spread out. Solid gospel partnerships are harder to come by. Feelings of loneliness and despair are never far behind. The days are evil, and sometimes it feels like nothing is going on, at least nothing good. All is quiet on the western frontier! If you're anything like me, perhaps you sense the tendency of your heart to slip into a kind of cynical, pessimistic, discouragement. A cloud of thick darkness covers our eyes so that we are unable to rejoice in, or even to see, the very real ways that God is at work.
“Am I the only one who sees this?” “Is there anybody out there on these bald prairies who isn’t compromised?” “Does anybody even know I’m out here?” “Have I been forgotten?” “What’s the point of continuing on?” “Nothing is happening!”
My soul thrashes about violently within.
If you’re familiar with the prophet Elijah you might have already made a few connections. He is considered to be one of the greatest prophets in the Old Testament and lived in the midst of dark days. Between Ahab, one of Isreal’s most wicked kings, and his wife Jezebel, Elijah’s life was under constant threat. In 1 Kings 19 we find Elijah running scared, despite the fact that he had just witnessed a great display of the glory of God triumphing over evil in his great showdown on Mount Carmel against the prophets of Baal. We read,
“Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. Then Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah, saying, ‘So may the gods do to me and more also, if I do not make your life as the life of one of them by this time tomorrow.’ Then he was afraid, and he arose and ran for his life and came to Beersheba, which belongs to Judah, and left his servant there.” (1 Kings 19:1–3, ESV)
I’d like to think that I’d stand my ground, had I been Elijah. But the sad reality is that I’ve found myself running scared of lesser things.
In verses 4-8 Elijah is hiding out once again, and once again a recipient of God’s tender care just like at Cherith (1 Ki. 17:2-7). In his mind, nothing has changed, all of his efforts and seeming victories have just been one colossal failure. He feels that he’s accomplished no more than any other man.
“But he himself went a day's journey into the wilderness and came and sat down under a broom tree. And he asked that he might die, saying, ‘It is enough; now, O LORD, take away my life, for I am no better than my fathers.’” (v.4)
Now, if there ever was a biblical case of burnout, here it is. Elijah is ready to throw in the proverbial towel and call it quits. But how did it ever come to this? How do you get to this point?
I think we get an answer if we just keep reading a bit further. Elijah takes a 40 day journey to Mount Horeb were Moses received the Law (there’s some significance to the number 40 but we just won’t get into that here). Twice the Lord asks him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (vv.9, 13) and twice he answers, “I have been very jealous for the LORD, the God of hosts. For the people of Israel have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword, and I, even I only, am left, and they seek my life, to take it away.” (vv.10, 14).
Can you hear the frustration? Can you hear the pessimism, the despair? “It’s no use God, I’ve tried! I’ve been faithful, but apparently, I’ve only wasted my time! I’m the only one left!” You might not immediately recognize it, but this is the voice of pride speaking. If you come to the conclusion that there’s only one faithful man, or faithful church, left on the face of the planet and it happens to be you, that’s a problem.
Elijah had also made the mistake of seeing everything as somehow depending on him. It’s little wonder why his knees began to buckle under that kind of pressure. I’m reminded of the sobering words of Tozer:
“Almighty God, just because He is almighty, needs no support. The picture of a nervous, ingratiating God fawning over men to win their favor is not a pleasant one; yet if we look at the popular conception of God, that is precisely what we see. Twentieth century Christianity has put God on charity. So lofty is our opinion of ourselves that we find it quite easy, not to say enjoyable, to believe that we are necessary to God. But the truth is that God is not greater for our being, nor would He be less if we did not exist…Probably the hardest thought of all for our natural egotism to entertain is that God does not need our help. We commonly represent Him as a busy, eager, somewhat frustrated Father hurrying about seeking help to carry out His benevolent plan to bring peace and salvation to the world… Too many missionary appeals are based upon this fancied frustration of Almighty God. An effective speaker can easily excite pity in his hearers, not only for the heathen but for the God who has tried so hard and so long to save them and has failed for want of support. I fear that thousands of young persons enter Christian service from no higher motive than to help deliver God from the embarrassing situation His love has gotten Him into and His limited abilities seem unable to get Him out of. Add to this a certain degree of commendable idealism and a fair amount of compassion for the underprivileged, and you have the true drive behind much Christian activity today.” (Knowledge of the Holy, 45-46)
So, at the very heart of Elijah’s fear, despair, and pessimism lies an inflated view of himself and a diminished and anaemic view of God.
Something had actually escaped Elijah’s notice. We see it in verse 18,
“Yet I will leave seven thousand in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed to Baal, and every mouth that has not kissed him.” (v.18)
Elijah’s low view of God had completely blinded him to the very real ways in which God had been at work behind the scenes.
Back in verse 11 the Lord revealed himself with an unusual series of displays. We read,
“And he said, ‘Go out and stand on the mount before the LORD.’ And behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire the sound of a low whisper.” (vv.11-12)
If it helps, you can think of this like divine show-and-tell. In the past God had broken into history with spectacular displays of glory and power. Fire blazed at the top of Mount Sinai when Moses received the Law (Ex. 19:16-18). God also answered by fire on Mount Carmel, when Elijah confronted the prophets of Baal. And yet here, God is not in the fire, nor is he in the wind, or the earthquake. Instead, he appears in the sound of a low whisper, or what the old King James Version refers to as a “still small voice.”
Though God may not always work by sending fire down from heaven, or a variety of other great spectacles, we dare not conclude that he is absent, or weak. Most of the time God chooses to accomplish his best work through the means of quiet providence. It may not be flashy, but it’s real.
Ministry on the frontier is hard and it will demand every ounce of perseverance you’ve got. That being said, God is at work here in ways that we might not always recognize, in ways that escape our notice. It might not be through great and wonderful deeds, but despite the evil of our day, I believe that there is a quiet sort of providence afoot on the western frontier.